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Back The Trickster Save as PDF
Chapters (74)
  1. The Trickster
  2. Copyright
  3. Dedication
  4. Contents
  5. Preface to the 20th anniversary edition
  6. Introduction
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. Keep Reading
  70. FURNACE
  71. Acknowledgements
  72. About the Author
  73. ALSO BY THE AUTHOR
  74. About the Publisher

‘No trouble. They’re here.’

She got up and went to the metal filing-cabinet and after some fussing with folders pulled out a bunch of paper tied together at the top with short string and metal binders. She handed it to him. Lots of close print and annotations. It looked like dull stuff.

‘I hope you find it interesting.’

‘Thank you. I’ll bring it straight back.’

‘No hurry.’

Katie held the door open for him while she was on her feet and he stood up, grateful to be released.

‘Thanks for your help, Mrs Hunt. Sorry to bring more bad news.’ He shook her hand. Katie nodded and shut the door after him.

She went to the window, filled like a TV with its never-ending show called Snow Falling.

She’d lied. He was out that night, and not for a walk round the block. Unless going round the block took a couple of hours. Was she going to be the last person to know what was happening with her husband?

Jesus Christ, she was spending all her waking hours swinging from hope and love to mistrust and insanity. It was eating her up like a cancer and she put her hands to her face in pain.

And for the hundredth time she told herself it was unthinkable. Completely and utterly impossible. Sam was not a killer. She loved him. She knew him. Did she? Until last night had she known that the man she loved had been forged on an anvil of torture and darkness? Had she known that her son would fear his father for some unknown transgression that was neither discussed nor explained?

Impossible? Well, who knows, maybe she’d like to tell Craig McGee that anything was possible.

She stared out of the window as a car-hire man tried to clear the snow off one of the Buicks for a potential customer that looked like a journalist. Tourists didn’t wear expensive, long storm coats and carry aluminium flight cases. The car-hire guy was using big hand movements to explain the merits of the freezing vehicle to the man in the storm coat, who seemed less than impressed. Those cars hadn’t moved for weeks. He’d be lucky to start it. The customer climbed in as the man from the car-hire shop stood outside watching him turn the key, no doubt crossing his fingers. It started first time.

Yes. Anything was possible.

40

The pipes made soft ticking noises as they cooled down. The central heating had gone off. Sam opened his eyes and his head worked out that the noise meant he had overslept. Katie was gone. He focused blearily on the digital clock on her bedside table and groaned. Eleven-fifteen. That wasn’t late. That was ridiculous. The house was big and empty and silent, and as he started to feel that they’d all cheated him, sneaking out like that and leaving him to oversleep, he remembered last night.